Lugging part of Arthur's suit of armour, Merlin made his way down the seemingly endless corridor of the castle, regrettably noticing that he was leaving tracks in the rich crimson carpet beneath his feet. The servants who already had enough to do would be the ones to clean the stains he created. The entire castle became dirty enough through those knights of Camelot, who had an incredible prowess with their swords but became clueless when it came to picking up their own dirty laundry off their chamber's floors. At least this way, though, Merlin had a place in the castle. The day that Arthur learned not to be a complete slob was the day that he was out of a job.

Halfway down the corridor, Merlin stopped and leaned against a tapestry on the wall to regain some strength. He couldn't understand how Arthur ever moved so swiftly while wearing armour; it was like strapping a sandbag to different parts of your body. Armour hindered movement, was bulky and cumbersome and worst of all, Merlin had to clean it. Regularly. And Heaven forbid he miss a spot because there was no way Arthur would even consider being seen in anything less than spotless armour. He studied the tapestry on the wall to get his mind away from his chores, as there were plenty he still had to do and it was nearly four in the afternoon already. The woven picture had warm, golden colours and there stood horses. Horses. Merlin remembered yet another chore he had yet to perform: feeding the Prince's many horses. How many steeds did one man need, for goodness sake? Apparently one for jousting, one for leisure, one for hunting…

Prat.

Merlin leaned against the wall and slowly crouched into a sitting position. He was considering just using magic to complete the day's work when something rather uncomfortable poked into his back, distracted him. It was impossible to concentrate when there was something jutting straight into him. He whirled around to face the wall and then was confused. Tapestries were flat. They didn't have bumpy bits. Curiously, he lifted the corner and found a knob. Come to think of it, it rather resembled a doorknob. But what was a doorknob doing under fabric and a foot above the ground?

Glancing about to check that no one was watching, he lay down flat on the ground and crawled through the small opening. He instantly found himself inside a small room, which was unlit and black. He turned around and scrabbled on the wall for the way out but his hands met nothing but a dusty wall. Merlin panicked and stood up, feeling his way around the space, flinching every time his fingers met a solid object. He gave up trying to see through the darkness and closed his eyes, murmuring a spell.

Instantly, every corner of the room was bathed in a gentle light, and Merlin could see where he had ended up. There were shelves, and boxes stacked everywhere. If the dust build-up was anything to judge by, no one had entered this room in decades. But this room had been used quite a lot: there were hardened pools of wax that were once the candles people had used to light their way as they stored things here.

Merlin considered going straight to Gaius and showing him the room, but most likely Gaius would forbid him from ever entering the room again. He could hear his voice already, saying in his calm baritone, "Don't poke your nose where it's not wanted, Merlin. Don't you have chores to do anyway?" Well, Gaius would have assumed he'd done his work already. So he'd have a look around and then go and polish Arthur's armour. He couldn't see a problem with that.

He lifted several flimsy boxes off a wooden crate and began fossicking through it. The instant he plunged his hand inside, he immediately pulled it out. "Ow!" He'd been bitten by something. "How the hell does anything live here?" he muttered angrily as he held his hand up to the light and saw two small puncture marks. It was probably a rouge spider. To avoid further unpleasant surprises, Merlin tipped the crate over and cautiously looked through its contents. There was a wide assortment of things: a beautifully carved mirror whose reflective surface was pitch black; a small wooden container of bright beads that wouldn't leave their box even though Merlin tipped it upside down; a broken staff split cleanly into two; a crystal orb that was a deep azure blue.

It was so perfect, Merlin lifted it up to marvel at it. Its facets caught the light and it glittered in his palm. He couldn't begin to wonder what an object like this was worth. Wrapping it in a cloth he found on a shelf, he pocketed it and crawled out the same way he came in. He hoped he hadn't spent too much time in the secret room. He emerged in the corridor, and noticed that the armour was gone but Arthur was storming down the hallway. Merlin instinctively turned to run in the opposite direction but the prince deftly caught him. "You!" Arthur exclaimed accusingly. "Where's my armour, you useless twit?"

Arthur had him in his strong grip. Merlin squirmed, trying to think of a good excuse. "I, uh, I've left it in the armoury."

"But I need it!" Looking him down, Arthur relinquished his hold on Merlin with an expression of disgust. "Actually, it's better that you don't handle it with your filthy hands. Where have you been?"

Merlin noticed the dust and grime coating over his clothes and on his hands with a grimace. "Cleaning under your bed," he replied with a hidden smirk. "You know what it's like under there."

"Urgh, just take the rest of the day off and go take a bath. Or jump in the lake, I don't care, just get clean! And don't even think about coming into my chambers like that." Arthur held his nose. Merlin sniffed his shirt experimentally and retched. Whatever had been in there had evidently got all over him. Fantastic. He tried to dust off the red cloth but only succeeded in smudging it.

"Fine, I suppose. But you'd better take a bath too."

"Why?"

"Because you don't want to go into your chambers smelling like you do. Someone might die. Sire. " Merlin ran off, and Arthur tripped over his own feet trying to catch him this time.

"Oi! Get back here!" Arthur howled and Merlin laughed. He rarely got the better of Arthur, especially since he could never outrun him or best him in a fight. Sometimes he did outwit him but outwitting Arthur always meant a friendly whack on the head afterwards and Merlin liked to protect his most valuable skill. Without his magic he was just your average male. Well. Maybe even less than that. Arthur was definitely above average. And speaking of Arthur, no doubt he would be cooking up some horrible revenge plot. Last time he had bested Arthur, Merlin had woken with ants swarming over his head, anxious to get at the honey someone had rubbed into his hair. He still had the tiny marks from the ant bites and the smell of the pungent balm Gaius had applied to get rid of the sting was still fresh in his head.

Merlin ran down to the lake, and began to remove his shirt. He heard the giggling and whipped around to find two servant girls doing their laundry by the same place. Blushing furiously, Merlin pulled it back over his head. "I'll just get my laundry done now too," he said to himself, as he waded into the water with his clothes on. He felt the cloth cling to his now wet skin enjoyed the water's coolness for a few tranquil seconds before beginning to rub at the dirt and dust stains. In his rush, he had forgotten to steal a bar of soap out of Arthur's closet and he didn't want to ask the servant girls for some; they only used the perfumed kind and the Prince already found enough to tease him about without him smelling like a girl. Stinking slightly was a preferable alternative to femininity. It took far longer than it should have, but eventually, Merlin managed to get rid of the smell off his skin, though he had to remove his shirt to do so because it contributed too much to the strange odour. Water just wouldn't make it go away. Three more girls had come to wash their laundry and their laughter made his face grow tomato-red with embarrassment, especially when they began arguing over him.

"Not much to look at, is he?" the oldest observed wryly, staring at him unashamed.

"I don't care," cried the rather silly red head. "I'll still have him."

"No, I'll have him," asserted her friend with a contemptuous expression. "I'm prettier."

"You must be joking," said the oldest. "If anyone's to have him, it'll be me."

"But you said-"

"Oh, I was only jesting, he's quite alright, actually…"

As they were quarreling amongst themselves, Merlin silently made his way past them, using the trees for cover. He usually never received that kind of attention; it was usually reserved for Arthur. Especially from gorgeous visiting ladies in the court, who had both beauty and wealth. But Arthur never gave them a second look, and he never understood why until now. Because their attentions were just so downright humiliating!

On his walk back to the castle, Merlin patted his wet pockets and felt his heart skip a beat when he realised that something was missing. Or, to be more specific, the beautiful orb that he had taken from the secret room. It was gone! Merlin ran back to the lake and dove into it, searching underwater for any hint of something sparkling, but there was nothing but the murky green and blue of the water. His eyes could only make out blurred shapes and it could have been anywhere in the lake; he did not know how deep it was. He hoped that fish didn't swim up inside his shirt. Dejected, he surfaced, glad that he hadn't told anyone about the orb. Otherwise there would have been hell to pay for losing something so precious.

Merlin trudged back to the castle, soaking wet and after he had changed into dry clothes, he lay down in his bed and fell instantly asleep. Meanwhile, outside in the lake something amazing and terrible took place as the sun went down.


The normally unmoving water of the lake sent out ripples that lapped against the edge of the bank with increasing urgency as something awakened beneath the surface of the lake. No one was around to witness a white hand clutch the bank and another hand following it. Slowly, a woman pulled herself up from the lake, her wet tendrils of hair clinging to her neck and back. She was unclothed, and if not for her eyes, she would have passed uncontested as a mortal woman. However, her eyes were backlit with the glow that was born from magic. She did not smile or soften the cruel look in her otherwise fair face.

The woman touched her face, the final echoes of disbelief leaving her expression, like a dreamer's descent into the word of the awake. She studied her surroundings with a blank expression, taking in castle along with the lake she had emerged from. It did not seem to surprise her that the castle from the days of her childhood still stood there after hundreds of years. She made her way towards the castle with jerking movements, moving as one would expect from a woman who had spent the previous centuries suspended underwater and had forgotten how to walk.

On her way to the castle she stole a simple light blue dress to cover her frame from a woman's abandoned embroidery work. There were loose threads hanging everywhere and it did not fit quite right but she barely noticed as she pulled it over her naked body and wandered around the courtyards. She managed to elude the guards patrolling the castle and slipped inside. As she entered, she was enveloped by warm air and the blazing lamps on the walls which brought heat rising to her cheeks. It reminded her that she was alive again. Silently as she entered, the woman walked through the hallway and opened doors at random.

A woman, and a servant brushing her hair; a man who had retired early for the night and was tossing and turning in his bed; a blonde boy arguing with a dark haired boy…

And just as she had been filled with warmth a few seconds earlier, she was drained of it and filled with cold. She recoiled from the doorway, appalled by what she had seen. Him.

Even if she had not recognised the descendant of the old Pendragon king, from centuries ago, she would have still been able to tell. Her blood sang, no, screamed, that this was one of them in a long line of bastards.

She knew now what she had been awakened for, what she had to do. The woman closed the door and ran off into the night, preparing for her task. _


That night, Merlin was dreaming of falling into a vast body of water, and sinking so far down that he could no longer distinguish where the surface was. He was suffocating in an endless pool of blue, and he thrashed about trying to resurface while his lungs screamed for air—

A hand grabbed him on the shoulder and shook him repeatedly, forcing him out of his nightmare. It was a familiar face: the Lady Morgana. He breathed in, not realising he had been holding his breath for the duration of the dream and sat up in his bed. Merlin looked up at Morgana and noted that she appeared upset and shaken. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair was not in its usual immaculate style; it was messy and it seemed as though she had come from her own chambers to here in a hurry.

"Merlin," she smiled uncertainly, "I'm incredibly sorry to disturb you at this hour."

"No, it's fine, it's not like I was busy or anything," Merlin said awkwardly. They both looked at each other, unsure of who should speak fist. Merlin decided to break the silence after a few moments. "So, can I help you with anything, my lady?"

"I was just wondering if you knew how to make me a sleeping draught? I've been having, well, awful dreams," she confessed. "But don't tell anyone, Merlin. I trust you."

Merlin reluctantly left his bed. "I don't know how to make one, but I know that Gaius has some around here that he told me to give you if you ever asked. Give me a minute to find them."

"I really appreciate this," Morgana thanked him. "I'd give anything to be able to have a dreamless sleep. Some of my dreams. They truly frighten me."

As he rifled through the drawers and cabinets, Merlin couldn't help but wonder what would make her so anxious not to be able to dream. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly have you been dreaming about?" Morgana grew silent and Merlin began to fear that he'd offended her. He began to babble. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I just thought that maybe you'd like to open up to someone but that's just me being tactless, I'm really sorry…"

Morgana looked tearfully at him. "It's not that, Merlin. Only, it's just so terrible, what I see. Because it seems so real. It's not like an ordinary nightmare, because I feel as though it will happen, in a few days or weeks, or months. I feel as though I can only see these things, but I cannot stop them. Imagine, Merlin, you see the death of someone you truly love and you are unable to stop it from happening. What do you do?" She laughed bitterly and then grew solemn. "I dreamt about a serpent. Well, a woman. Both. She was a monster. She rose up from the deep within the earth, and buried her dagger into the hearts of two people... They bled and melted into the ground and she became more powerful… It was a terrible dream."

A sense of foreboding stole over Merlin. Morgana had spoken about her dream with conviction, and Gaius had told him long ago that she was a seer. Could Morgana have seen snippets of the future?

As he passed the sleeping draught into her slightly trembling hands, he asked her, "Morgana, before you go, may I ask one more question?" She inclined her head. "Who did the woman kill?" he questioned, knowing the answer before she spoke it.

"One was Arthur's and the other…"

Merlin thought of the Great Dragon's observation and finished her sentence. Two sides of the same coin.

"The other was me."

Morgana's lips trembled as she spoke. "I'm scared for you, Merlin."

After Morgana left, Merlin was unable to sleep. Her recollection of the dream continued to reverberate inside his head. A creature, part serpent, part woman. He had never come across such a creature before in experience or in a book, but there was bound to be something written about them. Merlin lit a candle as quietly as he could, because if Gaius knew what he was up to, he would have to reveal Morgana's dream and betray her confidence. He didn't want to do that; Morgana had said she trusted him. He flipped through the book on magical creatures but his research efforts were futile. There was an entire chapter devoted to serpents but nothing about hybrids or half-breeds. Merlin had no trouble imagining such a being though: covered in scales, probably, and having the lower half body of a sea snake. And probably hideous on the whole.

Exhausted from his small search, Merlin slumped over at the table. Here he was, reduced to falling asleep at a table, too tired to return to his bed and already there was one more thing he had to save Arthur –and himself– from. Sometimes magic was a blessing, at other times a curse. Half the demented magical beings out to destroy the Pendragons picked at a fight with him too. And he was just the servant! Some people had no tact.

Unbeknownst to Merlin, he was being watched right that second, by the very same creature he had been trying to find on paper. She was there in flesh and blood.